


Loved With Inspiration

by jellymankelly



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellymankelly/pseuds/jellymankelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A tiny part of her mind marvels at how effortlessly Brittany can reduce her to a stuttering idiot with little more than a look. The rest of her is busy trying to remember how to breathe. And failing."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this was originally a St. Valentine's day fluff thing that I put up on FFN, but I figured what the hey, might as well put it up on here now, regardless of the timing.

Santana shifts restlessly from one foot to the other, clapping her hands to her biceps and rubbing them furiously to try and stave off the unusually deep February chill. When that has little effect, she decides that avoiding frostbitten fingers would be a more productive use of her time. She unzips her black quilted jacket just enough so that she can shove her fingers under her arms where they can share her body heat.

After a moment or two of complete silence, she growls and yanks one hand out to ring the Pierces' doorbell a second time. She quickly tucks her hand against the warmth of her armpit again and grumbles under her breath, steam billowing from between her lips with every huff. Her nose is starting to ache in the cold evening air, and she wonders briefly if nose jobs for frostbite victims would be covered by insurance. Just as she's about to pull out her phone, the front door swings open and she almost squeaks at the abruptness of it.

"Santana, dear! Good gracious, come in, come in! You know you don't have to stand on ceremony with us, especially when it's so miserable out."

Susan Pierce ushers Santana in, and the girl almost weeps in relief at the rush of warm air that presses around her as she steps into the house. She loves how the Pierce house always smells like pastries and cinnamon during the winter months. It fits the buttery yellows and creamy whites of the interior walls more than any other season, and it makes her feel completely at home in a way her own house rarely does.

She's about to respond to Susan when a flash of gold catches her eye and the words die on her tongue. She whips her head to the right and can't help the grin that stretches across her cheeks at the sight of Brittany approaching from the living room. It's criminal how good she looks even in pj pants and an oversized sweatshirt. Brittany's hair is tied up in a messy bun, and there isn't a speck of makeup on her face, and Santana wouldn't have it any other way. Her grin is returned with a flash of white teeth before the blonde flings herself at Santana, wrapping her in an enormous hug.

Susan rolls her eyes and heaves an exaggerated sigh, but smiles fondly at the two girls as she leaves them standing in the entryway.

"Brittany, at least help her out of her coat first," she admonishes with a laugh.

Brittany giggles as she pulls away and tugs playfully at the heavy snow jacket, running her fingers under the zipper until her knuckles brush lightly over Santana's chest. The smaller girl shrugs her off with a snort, and lets the jacket slide off her shoulders.

"I got it, Britts. You just keep your hands to yourself, thank you very much."

She grips the collar of her jacket and turns to hang it on the coat rack bolted to the wall by the front door. She has to rock up onto her toes to reach it, muttering as she does. "Geez, you people are tall. This thing is ridiculous."

She shrieks when cold fingertips graze the small of her back where her grey thermal has ridden up to expose the skin above her jeans. The unexpected sensation causes her to falter and she shies violently against the wall. She starts to turn and dodge out of Brittany's reach, but her right wrist doesn't follow the motion. "Oof! Oh what the- dammit my bracelet's caught on the stupid coat hook. Ugh."

She swivels in place so that her back is pressed against the wall under the rack and tugs uselessly at the bracelet. She's about to make a snide remark about Brittany's lack of assistance but she stops cold at the expression on her girlfriend's face.

Freckled cheeks have flushed scarlet, the tiniest of smirks hovers on pink lips, and the pure lust blazing in the girl's blue-turned-black eyes are enough to make Santana's knees buckle. Behind the lust is a glint of something else, something Santana's never seen before, and it makes her stomach flip and clench in the best way.

"Y-you uh...you gonna help me out Britts, or you just gonna stand there," she mumbles lamely.

The blonde steps up so that she's toe-to-toe with the brunette, and Santana feels her heart kick up its pace into hyper drive. One pale hand wraps around her bicep and begins to slide slowly up her trapped arm towards the offending accessory, but all Santana can focus on are the lips mere inches from her own. Brittany's other hand braces against the wall over Santana's left shoulder, and her thumb brushes lightly against Santana's neck. By now Santana's arm is tingling, and though she can't tell if it's because of the lack of blood flow or the gentle scrape of fingernails against her skin, she can't find it in herself to care either way. Brittany flicks her tongue out to wet her lips, and Santana's head spins.

"Up on your toes, San."

Her heart bottoms out somewhere in the vicinity of her belly button at the rough, gravelly quality to Brittany's voice, and it's all she can do to keep her balance long enough to do as she's told. Gentle fingers dance around her wrist for a moment before unhooking her, and when she sinks back down onto her heels she has to press herself even harder against the wall just to keep upright.

"W-we should uhm...we should...we..." The brunette's words trail off as Brittany drops her left hand so that it mirrors her right, trapping her in a cage of pale limbs. Blue eyes sear into brown before flickering down to full, red lips, and Brittany licks her own again. Santana swallows thickly and realizes she's far warmer than she ought to be, even in the Pierces' well-heated house. A tiny part of her mind marvels at how effortlessly Brittany can reduce her to a stuttering idiot with little more than a look. The rest of her is busy trying to remember how to breathe. And failing.

"Yeah, San?" The words are barely louder than a breath as she leans into Santana. She's no more than a couple millimeters away when Santana finally regains use of her mental faculties.

"Present!"

Brittany jerks back in shock at the sudden shout, but the surprise melts into smug satisfaction when she takes in Santana's stuttered breathing, heaving chest, and blown pupils. The look Brittany sweeps over Santana causes the smaller girl's face to flame, and she has to drop her eyes to hide her own arousal.

"Sorry. I meant, I have your present. You should open it. Right now. In the kitchen. Where your parents are."

Brittany chuckles and steps a back a couple feet with a shake of her head. Santana sighs in relief. She's been unusually wary of physical displays of affection beyond simple touch while the older Pierces are home ever since Susan almost walked in on her and Brittany in the middle of the afternoon, three Saturdays ago. Brittany's mother was none the wiser, but Santana refuses to take any chances after such a close call, much to Brittany's unending amusement - and growing frustration.

Brittany's eyes light up with joy and she dances in place, wiggling her butt in excitement. They both decided this year that instead of trying to top their big Valentine's blow-out gifts from last year, they were going to try something a little different this time around. Starting on February 1st, they would give each other one small gift ever other day - Santana on odd numbered days, Brittany on even. The gifts weren't allowed to be over $10 in value, and they had to be bought or made on the same day they were given.

At first Santana was a little apprehensive about the plan, as Brittany had always been more the more adept of the two of them at small romantic gestures, whereas she had a tendency to overcompensate with her gifts in her efforts to please. But, after the first few gifts had gone over without a hitch, she had slowly begun to gain confidence in her own abilities. She's particularly excited for today's gift, despite having nearly forgotten about it completely not ten minutes ago. It's the last gift she can give, since tomorrow is St. Valentine's, and she's done her best to go all out for it, in spite of the restrictions of their arrangement.

"Come on, you goof." Brittany drops a light kiss on the tip of Santana's nose before turning away. As she bounds gracefully into the kitchen, Santana takes one more steadying breath against the wall before fumbling through her jacket to find the tiny box buried deep in one of its pockets. She extracts it with a triumphant  _aha_  and follows after Brittany at a much more sedate pace. She pauses in the doorway and smiles at the utter ridiculousness of the scene before her.

Michael Pierce is stationed before the oven, singing a Nat King Cole song - poorly - at the top of his lungs, gesticulating wildly with a cream cheese covered wooden spoon. Every few seconds, Susan chimes in with a slightly more on-key harmony, all the while trying to snatch the spoon from her husband's hand to prevent anymore frosting from being splattered about the kitchen. Their antics are made even more ridiculous by the fact that they are wearing matching frilly pink aprons that both have 'Kiss the Cook' emblazoned across the chest.

Meanwhile, their daughter is perched on a stool at the far end of the island counter and clutching at the marble surface as if her life depends on it. Which, judging by the way she's laughing so uproariously, may very well be the case if Santana is any judge. She rushes over just in time to save Brittany from toppling right off her seat, and gives in to a few quiet giggles of her own. Once she's certain her girlfriend is no longer in mortal peril, she slides onto the stool to Brittany's right, maintaining light contact with her waist, her shoulder, her elbow, or her hand at all times.

Once the ruckus begins to quiet, Brittany turns to Santana expectantly. Santana, for her part, keeps her eyes steadfastly forward, not bothering to hide her growing smirk when she hears an exasperated sigh to her left.

"So Mrs. P- uh, Susan," she interrupts herself quickly when the formal address earns her a mild glare from the older woman. She's probably been told dozens of times by now to call Brittany's parents by their first names, but it's a tough habit to break, after years of quiet courtesy and respectful  _yes, ma'ams_  and  _no, sirs_. "Any plans for the weekend?"

"Well it's funny you should ask dear, since that's just what Michael and I were discussing before he decided to bless us with one of his...energetic serenades." Michael lets out a rumbling laugh and bumps his hip into his wife's back.

"The best way to spread Valentine's cheer is singing loud for all to hear. Isn't that right, Britt-bee?" He shoots a cheeky wink over his misquote at Brittany, who unbends from glaring at Santana long enough to favor him with a giggle and a blown kiss. He mimes catching it and tucks it quickly into the pocket of his apron, patting it like he's captured a precious treasure. Santana can't really blame him for that, though. She happens to think Brittany kisses are to be treasured too. Her grin widens even further when Brittany whips right back to staring, and she has to edge ever so slightly to the right to keep wandering fingers from getting too close to her thigh - or the gift resting in her lap.

"Yes, dear. Thank you  _ever_ so much for that." Susan chuckles quietly and prods her husband back into position, tapping him lightly on the shoulder to get him to return to his cake frosting duties. "As I was saying, Michael and I were thinking it might be nice to go spend the weekend at my parents' house, catch up with some old family friends who will be in town tomorrow."

Santana can't help but deflate a little at this news, assuming that Brittany will be going along with the couple. She musters up her best I'm-totally-bummed-but-I'll-put-on-a-brave-face-about-it smile and mumbles, "I'm sure they'll love seeing the three of you again." She's about to ask when they're planning on leaving, with the hope that if it isn't too early she'll at least be allowed to take Brittany out for hot chocolate tomorrow morning before they all leave, when Susan speaks up again.

"Well, now that's the thing. Mike's car is in the shop again, and my company car is on loan to one of those New York yahoos for the next two weeks, so we only have Brittany's truck at the moment. Since the cab only seats two, I think we may have to ask Brittany to sit this particular trip out. Unless you're desperate to go, sweetheart? You did just see them last weekend, but if you have your heart set on going with us..." Susan lets her sentence trail off and looks to Brittany, who appears to be in wide-eyed shock. While Santana's parents haven't really had any qualms about leaving her on her own for days at a time since age 15, the Pierces have always been very conscientious of their daughter's whereabouts - and that she remain under adult supervision as much as possible.

She blinks a few times before glancing at Santana, who is watching her with a painfully hopeful expression. "You mean, I would stay here? Alone? Without you guys?" She shifts her gaze back to her mother, who now has a knowing twinkle in her eyes.

"Hmm, you have a point there. I don't really like the idea of you being home alone for three whole days..."

Santana feels the brief flicker of hope within her start to fade. She would gladly offer to host Brittany at her house, but her parents were off on yet another one of their many 'business cruises.'  _Of course_. No way would that fly.

"Santana, I don't suppose you would be willing to stay over for a couple days? Help Brittany keep an eye on things? I'd feel better if Britt-bee had a little company while we were gone."

Santana opens her mouth to wax eloquent on all the responsible things she would be sure to do in order to keep Brittany safe and well while the Pierces were away, but all that comes out is a high-pitched yelp, followed by her nearly crashing to the floor.

Apparently, at some point during the conversation Brittany had decided that since she couldn't manage to reach the present tucked between her girlfriend's legs, she'd go for a different prize instead. Her hand had made it almost entirely over the crest of Santana's left thigh, and was well on its way to the seam just below Santana's fly when the brunette finally noticed.

Once Santana manages to regain her balance, and some semblance of her pride, she shoots a stern glance at Brittany before sliding onto a stool on the other end of the counter. Returning her attention to Susan, she flushes hotly when she notices the woman's confused yet all-too-knowing expression.

"Uhm, that's..I mean, I would be happy to. Keep Britt company, that is. Are you sure you're okay with it just being the two of us, though?" Despite the incredulous expression now adorning Brittany's face, she lets the question stand. She feels completely justified when both Michael and Susan reward her with twin looks of fondness and approval.

"Oh I'm sure you two will be just fine without us, right Angelface?" Michael grins at his wife, who rolls her eyes at the silly endearment, but nods in agreement nonetheless.

"I have complete faith in the both of you, Santana. After all, Brittany's eighteen and you're nearly there yourself, not to mention the fact that you're both soon-to-be high school graduates. It's about time we let Britt-bee have a little responsibility of her own."

Anything else she might have said is completely lost on the two girls, who are now staring at each other with such shining expressions of excitement that Santana is half convinced that one or both of them may just spontaneously combust from the joy of it all.

Without a word, Brittany leaps to her feet and wraps each of her parents in enormous hugs, then grabs Santana by the wrist and nearly drags her from the room. She doesn't slow down until they reach her room, at which point Santana so overcome with giggles at Brittany's enthusiasm that she can barely stand upright. She stumbles drunkenly over to Brittany's bed, and it's several moments before she can breathe normally again. Her laughter fades away completely when Brittany silently walks up to her and straddles her hips, pulling her into a deep kiss that nearly takes Santana's breath away again. She leans back a few inches and catches Brittany's eyes with her own, and she's shocked by how dark those blue eyes have gotten in such a short period of time. Brittany looms in for another kiss, and pouts heavily when Santana places one hand on her chest, pushing her away gently.

"Present, Britts. I thought you wanted your present?"

"I want  _you_."

Santana smirks at the impatience in the words, but keeps her hand firmly in place. "Oh, well if you don't want it..." She holds the present out of the blonde's reach teasingly, laughing when she almost capsizes them both in her effort to reach the box. Finally, Brittany climbs off her lap and flounces onto the edge of the bed next her, letting out a low whine.

"San-tan-aaaaa!"

"Well since you asked  _so_  nicely." Santana hands the box over, and chuckles when it's snatched out her hands almost quicker than she can follow.

Brittany rips the top off the tiny box, but then nearly drops it when one hand flies to cover the gasp that escapes her lips. She stares at the contents of the box, stock still, and is silent for so long that Santana begins to worry.

"Britts? Is it okay? I asked your mom, and she gave it to me, and I thought it would be kind of romantic..." No response. Santana slouches down a little in an attempt to catch the blonde's eye and lets out a gasp of her own when she notices the tears starting to trickle. In a flash she's on her knees before Brittany, babbling apologies faster than she can even think them. "Oh God, baby, I'm so sorry! Please don't cry! I should have asked you first, I knew you were attached- I'm so so  _so_  sorry! I can try and wel-" her stream is cut off by a rough kiss, brimming with just as much, if not more passion than the one that preceded it a few moments prior.

When Brittany finally lets her surface for air, she just stares dazedly, face beaming with a goofy grin, trying to focus through the haze in her brain long enough to figure out if she's still in trouble or not. She touches the hand still holding the box tentatively, and looks questioningly at the girl still seated above her. "Britts?"

"Santana."

Her name is said so softly she can barely credit it, but for the absolute adoration spilling out of Brittany's eyes.

"Is this...is this what I think it is?" She picks up one of the rings for the first time, holding it between her thumb and forefinger carefully, as if it might crumble or disappear at any moment. The silver metal is thick and slightly uneven from where Santana inexpertly pounded it into its new shape. The intricately delicate designs inlaid along the surface are still perfectly preserved, and only the seam where the two ends of what used to be the handle of a spoon have been welded together show proof that the ring was made by someone less than a master at their craft.

Santana takes the ring gently from her girlfriend's trembling fingers and, with a final wordless request for approval, slides it onto Brittany's left ring finger, noting with a certain satisfaction that it fits perfectly. "I made them from the handles of the little spoons our parents got for us when we were babies. I was so excited when I found out that your parents got yours from the same place mine did. I mean, how incredible is that? So I asked your mom if I could have yours, and got mine from my mom, and talked my cousin Marcus into helping me turn the handles into rings. I have the bowls of the spoons still, if you want yours..." She stops when she notices the slight furrow to Brittany's brow, and her heart stutters in fear. "Britts? What's wrong?"

Brittany glances up from ring and her face immediately relaxes into a smile, which in turn relaxes Santana. "Nothing's wrong, babe, it's just that I think you gave me the wrong one. This one has an 'S' on it."

Santana shakes her head and reaches for the box, plucking the other ring out from where it's nestled among the wads of tissue paper. Making sure that the bottom end of the spoon handle serving as the top of the ring is facing out, she carefully slides the ring onto her own finger. She wiggles her finger slightly so that the light catches on the 'B' carved into her own ring, and Brittany gasps in recognition when she sees how it fits against dark skin flawlessly. "I thought it would be more special if...if we wore each other's, you know? Like, personalized promise rings or something."

She's about to explain further when suddenly she's hoisted up and thrown bodily onto the bed. In a flash, Brittany is on top of her and covering her in furious kisses. Long fingers work their way under her shirt and almost make it to her bra when she finally manages to halt their progress. Brittany groans in frustration. "Babe,  _please._ "

Santana pants for a few moments, then carefully rolls out from under the taller girl. "Much as I would love for you to show me just how much you liked my gift, not now." When Brittany groans again, she can't help but smile. "Britts, baby, your parents are still home! Gimme a break here! I really don't think the best way to prove to them that we can be responsible adults is to have them walk in on us in the middle of-  _you know._ " The blonde sighs in defeat and rolls off the bed, moving stand in front of Santana. When a couple minutes pass without a word from either of them, Santana shifts uneasily, unable to contain her doubt any longer. "You  _do_  like them, right? The rings?"

Brittany reaches out and snags Santana's left hand in her right, thumbing gently over the newest addition. "I  _love_  the rings. Almost as much as I love you. They're wonderful, San. Thank you so much." She pulls her into a bone-crushing hug, and Santana heaves a sigh of relief and sends a silent prayer of gratitude to the heavens.

As they pull back from the embrace she opens her mouth to suggest that they go back downstairs to show Brittany's parents the rings, but the words are stolen right out of her mouth when she catches sight of Brittany's expression. The look of pure, unadulterated lust is back, along with the subtle glimmer she still can't define, and she gulps.

"I can't wait to give you your present tomorrow, babe, and show you just how much I love mine."

Santana feels her legs go weak again, and she lets out an undignified squeak at the blatant caress across her stomach as Brittany saunters past her towards the bedroom door. She turns to follow her out, but stops before she can even take a step when Brittany pauses at the door. She turns her head just enough so that Santana can see the sly cheshire grin spreading across her lips before speaking.

"Oh, and San? You really shouldn't have teased me earlier. That wasn't very good planning on your part, babe. Not when I have you all to myself tomorrow. All. Day."

Santana's knees give out on her completely, and she collapses bonelessly onto the bed. "Jesus Christ, what have I gotten myself into?"


	2. Chapter 2

"For heaven's sake, Santana, you really don't have to knock anymore. Just come on in." Susan smiles kindly despite her exasperated tone, and Santana thinks it might be more because of the fact that her husband just wandered by in nothing but socks, boxers, and a necktie than anything else. She feels her eyes go wide and immediately averts them, praying fervently that the image doesn't stay with her for the rest of her life. Susan follows her previous line of sight and claps a hand over her mouth in shock. "Richard Michael Pierce,  _go put some clothes on!_ "

He stumbles to a halt and glances up in surprise. "Oh hey kiddo, how's things? Susie, have you seen my pants? I could have sworn I was wearing them not fifteen minutes ago..." He scratches his head bemusedly and continues shuffling into the kitchen.

Susan shakes her head and glances apologetically at Santana before following her husband. Keeping her eyes pointed toward the floor just in case Michael makes another surprise appearance, Santana pulls her jacket off and turns to hang it on the coat rack. Once again, she has to rock up on her toes to properly reach the top hook, but she's sure to keep her wrists - and more importantly her bracelet - well out of potential snagging distance. When she turns back she finds Brittany standing only a few feet away, barefoot and wrapped up tight in a sky-blue terrycloth robe, watching her with an expression that's both speculative and mischievous, and the combination sends a shiver down Santana's spine.

"Hey baby, whatcha doing?"

A sunshine-bright smile transforms Brittany's face, and draws an equally happy smile from the brunette.

"Watching you."

"Creeper. Speaking of which, I'm pretty sure your dad has scarred me for life." Santana chuckles lightly at the flush of embarrassment that spreads across Brittany's cheeks and up to the tips of her ears.

"Yeah, he's kind of absentminded first thing in the morning. I guess that's where I get it from..."

Santana steps up and wraps her arms around Brittany's waist, offering her a quick peck on the nose before nuzzling into her neck. With a tiny smirk, she whispers hotly against pink skin, "I gotta admit, I like it better on you. But then, I like a lot of things about early morning Brittany, so I could be biased." Her smile grows when she feels a shudder run through Brittany's body, and she pulls back to observe the effect of her seemingly innocuous statement. Her satisfaction turns into blank-minded surprise at the look of intense want on Brittany's face.

"I like early morning Santana too," she whispers. Santana is in awe of how the girl can manage to sound both innocent and aroused at the same time. She keeps her arms looped loosely around Brittany's waist, content for the moment simply to be holding her.

They must stand there for a great deal longer than she realizes, because the next thing she knows, Michael Pierce is ambling by again, properly clothed, suitcases in hand.

Immediately Santana breaks her hold on Brittany and lets a small gap of space form between them. Without even looking, she can tell the blonde is pouting rather fiercely at their separation so she reaches over and laces their fingers together in consolation. A gentle squeeze lets her know she's forgiven the distance.

"Okay, I think we've got just about everything." Michael sets the suitcases down by the door and pats himself down absentmindedly as he goes through his list. "Suitcases, check. Phone, check. Wallet, check. Keys, check. Pants, check - sorry about that Santana..."

Santana blushes heavily and makes a noncommittal sound in the man's general direction, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact. Brittany manages an embarrassed chuckle at the brunette's expense that is echoed by her mother as the woman approaches.

After a few more moments of last-minute instructions and goodbyes, the older Pierces are out the door and on their way, leaving Santana alone with a beaming Brittany in the suddenly too-quiet entryway. She starts to suggest a mid-afternoon coffee run, but stops at the sparkling look of excitement in her girlfriend's eyes.

"Can I give you your present now, San? Please, please, please?"

Santana laughs at the girl's eagerness and nods obligingly. "Of course, Britts." She starts to follow her up the stairs, but stops when Brittany turns and motions for her to stay. She's only waiting for a few seconds before Brittany comes thumping back down the stairs, a tiny pink gift bag in hand.

"Okie doke, here we are. Happy St. Valentine's Day babe." She drops a peck on Santana's cheek, then smiles when it puts an unexpected blush on the smaller girl's cheeks.

Carefully and slowly, Santana pulls each piece of white, glitter-laden tissue from the bag, until Brittany is practically vibrating with drawn-out anticipation. Laughing at the girl's excitability, she shakes her head and finally reaches in to pull out the gift- and gasps.

There in her hand is a beautifully finished black leather cuff. The ends clasp together with a simple snap button, but the cuff itself is the real work of art. Burned into the thick material with loving detail are the words, " _And So Shall It Be..._ "

"Britt..." She sniffles once, a little surprised in spite of herself at the upwelling of love and affection a few simple words can create in her.

"It's from your favorite song, that jazz-y one by uhm, what's her name?"

"Ella Fitzgerald."

"Yeah, her! Anyway, I found this old kit of my mom's a few weeks ago for making leather bracelets and she helped me figure out how to use it. I was gonna save it for your birthday since it's coming up, but after the rings...I just...I wanted to show you that I mean forever too, you know? Like the song says."

Unable to contain herself anymore, Santana slams into Brittany, pulling her in for a fierce, heated kiss that leaves both girls breathless and moaning.

"I love you so much, baby. And I love the bracelet. It's perfect, just like you."

"San," Brittany sighs.

The brunette steps back and carefully snaps the bracelet into place over her left wrist, brandishing it proudly for Brittany to see. Her wide grin falters under Brittany's gaze, which is filled with that same dark wanting from yesterday, the look that sends delicious shivers all up and down Santana's spine. Her mind flashes back to Brittany's words in her bedroom, and the undefinable glint in her eye, and she shivers again.

Her grin broadens again and she sends a flirty wink in Brittany's direction before turning to go for her coat where it hangs on the hook. "How about we go get that coffee now, huh Britts?"

She reaches up for her coat when strong hands circle unexpectedly around her waist, tracing circles into her white button-down shirt for a moment before gently guiding her to turn around. Before she can protest, Brittany's lips meet hers with forceful impact, drowning her in a passionate kiss. She's practically panting against the wall when Brittany finally releases her, but she only has the presence of mind to take another deep breath before lunging at the taller girl to pull her back in.

Brittany responds by pushing her more fully against the wall, trapping her there with the steady pressure of hips against her pelvis and hands against her shoulders. Long fingers slide gracefully down the bare skin of her arms before resting gingerly along the waistband of her jeans. A low whine works into Santana's heavy breaths when those same fingers gradually begin working her shirt from the confines of her belted pants.

She can feel her stomach muscles ripple under the gentle strokes and circles drawn into her skin, and it makes her breathing fall even further out of rhythm. Slowly, ever so slowly, Santana can feel the shirt being worked up her torso. When she reaches to aid its progress, Brittany stops her and pulls on her wrists until her arms are stretched straight above her head, knuckles just barely reaching the bottom of the coat rack.

"Let me, babe." Brittany's eyes burn into hers with an electric heat, and it's all she can do to gulp and nod her acquiescence before resuming their kiss.

Palms and fingers brush lightly over her torso, glancing over but never quite touching the places that ache for contact the most. The kiss stops only long enough for Brittany to lift the shirt past Santana's face and up along her arms.

She starts to reach down to cradle Brittany's face, but finds herself trapped. She looks up and sees that her shirt has been deftly rolled around itself between her wrists and hooked onto the coat rack, creating a makeshift set of cloth shackles to keep her in place. She tugs experimentally and groans in recognition when the leather cuff on her left wrist and the charm bracelet on her right both dig into her skin and the unyielding cotton of her shirt, ensuring her capture.

She drops her chin to glare accusingly at Brittany, who has stepped back to admire her handy-work with a wide, knowing grin. She tugs again uselessly at the shirt, ignoring the growing flutter in her stomach caused by Brittany's stare. She knows rationally that she can escape her bonds at any time (probably) but that certain glint is back, and she has a feeling it's got more than just something to do with her current predicament.

"I told you, San." The low heat in Brittany's voice makes Santana snap back to her. "I told you you shouldn't tease me. It's just  _not_ good planning."

She groans at the unsubtle reminder of yesterday's threat, and feels a low pulse start between her legs. The full realization of just how much trouble she's in hits her - she is _completely_  at Brittany's mercy. And Brittany likes to go slow.  _Really_  slow.

"Fuck."

She flushes at the broken, hoarse quality of her voice, a little embarrassed at how evident her arousal is. "Britts, please..." She lets her plea die off on its own, unsure of what she's even asking for.

Brittany steps back up to her, consciously replaying their position from yesterday, so that her bare toes are flush against the tips of Santana's sneakers. "Mm-mm, San. You're  _my_ Valentine today.  _Mine._ "

The uncharacteristic possessive tone in Brittany's voice stops Santana's heart cold, and the dominating force of the kiss that follows starts it going again in double-time. The blonde works her mouth across the round of cheek and over to her ear, where she proceeds to suck on Santana's ear lobe with heated abandon.

Santana gasps at the sensation of teeth nipping at her ear, and her head buzzes with arousal. Her fists clench tightly where they're held prisoner, straining against the coiled fabric of her shirt. Unthinkingly, her head rolls back, and Brittany takes immediate advantage of her newly exposed throat by latching on and sucking roughly.

The brunette can practically feel the bruises raising on her neck as Brittany marks her, and the thought sends a streak of heat straight to her core. After what seems like an eternity, the questing lips begin to sink lower, nibbling at the protuberance of her collarbone, licking at the sweat sheen just starting to coat her chest, and generally driving her to complete distraction.

Brittany stops suddenly at the hollow of her clavicle, laving it gently before dragging the tip of her tongue in a straight line directly down Santana's heaving chest, stopping at the limits of her bra. Without warning, she cups the sides of each breast (careful not to touch either nipple, much to Santana's moaning dismay) and press them in, burying her face in the resulting cleavage.

"God San, your skin is  _so_  soft." She licks over the top of the mound in her right hand, tongue catching against the rough black lace of the bra.

Santana arches into the sensation, straining for more and whining when the wet heat disappears from her flesh. Focused as she is on the quickly cooling moisture on her breast, she doesn't realize that Brittany's hands have slid around her back to unhook her bra until suddenly she's free of the garment completely. She gasps as warm air whispers over nipples already peaked with desire.

Her eyes follow the path of her bra as Brittany slips it up her arms. For a brief moment she's filled with hope that she'll be released from the delicious torture, but Brittany merely presses the bra into her fingers.

"Hang on to that for me, would you babe? Don't want it getting in the way."

Santana clutches the bra in her fists and glares at Brittany's coy expression, but the look loses all its potency when a thumb flits across her nipple.

"God that feels good."

Brittany smiles serenely and takes a step back. With slow, deliberate motions, she flicks loose the knot holding her robe shut, and shrugs the material off her shoulders. Santana gapes as her girlfriend's long lean body is revealed, clothed in nothing but a set of crimson sheer lace bra and matching panties. The robe puddles around the blonde's feet, forgotten.

"Jesus Christ."

Brittany's smile widens in satisfaction at the open-mouthed awe in Santana's face.

"I got myself a little Valentine's gift. You like 'em?"

Santana steps forward, jerking against her restraints and snarling when she remembers their presence. She whips her gaze back to Brittany and fixes her with a fierce stare.

"I swear to God, Brittany, if you don't let me out of this fucking shirt right now I'll...I'll.."

Her sentence trails off as she tries to come up with an appropriately motivating consequence, and jerks her arms again in frustration when nothing surfaces.

Brittany silences her growls with another bruising kiss, fingers working at Santana's belt buckle and fly even as her lips work at the girl's mouth. When she finally gets both undone, she drops suddenly to her knees, fingers curling over the waistband of the newly unfastened pants. Santana bites her lip at the sight of Brittany on her knees before her, swallowing back another groan at the agonizing pace at which the blonde begins to pull down her pants.

After yet another eternity has passed, her pants reach her ankles, and are removed with gentle care. Her socks and shoes are pulled off with equal tenderness.

"You have such beautiful legs, San."

"Not as beautiful as yours," she replies a shaky but charming tone, hoping that a compliment will speed the other girl's movements. No such luck.

In lieu of an actual response, Brittany simply begins working her way back up tan legs, kissing and stroking every bit of skin she can reach. When she reaches Santana's hips, her touch is conspicuous in its absence along the insides of the trembling thighs where they meet. Santana spreads her legs in an attempt to encourage Brittany to provide her with the friction she desperately craves, but Brittany only chuckles against her skin and moves her lips up to her belly, continuing the slow trail of kisses until she's level with Santana's breasts again.

She stops when she's hovering just over Santana's left nipple, flicking out her tongue to tease its tip. Santana lets out a low keen and arches her back, pressing her breasts forward in search of stronger contact. She nearly weeps with relief when Brittany complies and takes the nipple into her mouth for a long, pulling suckle.

Her sigh of relief hitches when Brittany circles the nipple with her tongue, swirling around it over and over until the whole peak is soaked and swollen and sensitive. Her breath catches again when the tongue is replaced by the delicate scrape of teeth tugging at it gently.

The process is repeated on her right nipple, and by the time Brittany straightens to press a kiss to Santana's lips, her core is pulsing with almost-painful need and she can feel her arousal soaking through the lace of her panties and literally dripping down her thigh. She's certain that she's only seconds from going utterly insane under Brittany's frustratingly thorough teasing.

"Brittany, baby,  _please._ "

Brittany smiles against her lips and pulls back to meet her eyes.

"Something you need, San?"

"You, babe. Please, I need you."

Hands slide from her breasts down to her waist, around to cup against her ass. She moans when Brittany squeezes, pulling Santana's pelvis against her own. Brittany leans in and whispers against her ear.

"Tell me what you need."

"I need you inside. Fuck me, babe."

Brittany doesn't reply, but rolls her hips against Santana a couple times before her hands circle back up to the smaller girl's waist. Her left hand travels up to bury itself in the hair at the base of Santana's skull while her left drifts slowly down over her hips to trace designs into the sopping lace between her legs.

Santana hisses in pleasure, than again in frustration when the touches remain light and teasing. For a moment, she's distracted by Brittany's fist tighenting in her hair and yanking her up for another searing lip-lock. The distraction doesn't work for long, however, and she's back to pumping her hips wildly against Brittany's long frame in an effort to gain some form of relief.

She sighs a grateful  _yes_  when Brittany's fingers move back up to curl over the tops of her panties. The sigh turns into a gasp when instead of pulling them down, Brittany yanks the fabric  _up_ , deliberately sliding the crotch against Santana's throbbing clit. She pulls sharply on the panties several more times, eliciting a yelping curse with every tug.

"Fuck! Oh fuck, Bri..fuck, fuck, fuck!"

When the rough pressure of fabric eases off, Santana is left panting and clenching her thighs mindlessly. "Jesus, Britt, are you trying to make me explode instead of come?"

Brittany just grins wolfishly and tugs the panties down so that they fall around the brunette's ankles where she can kick them off.

The dancer then taps at Santana's thighs, silently commanding her to spread her legs. If she weren't to busy focusing on Brittany's every move, she might have been embarrassed at how evident her arousal is by now, but she's completely beyond caring at this point.

With her customary agonizing slowness, Brittany places her right hand back on Santana's chest, just between her breasts, and starts to move it down toward her final goal. When the fingers brush the first curls of soft hair, Santana thinks she might cry. When a fingertip makes its first circle around a swollen clit, her hips buck powerfully and completely without her intention. She's so wet that the finger actually slips off, and she groans in disappointment.

The groan turns into a moan of appreciation when Brittany moves her finger immediately back and initiates a painstakingly slow and steady massage of her slick folds.

Brittany works her up into a frenzy, bringing her just shy of climax, before slowing her motions and lessening the pressure of her fingers ever so slightly. Then she starts over, repeating the process again and again. Each time, Santana gets closer and closer, but never quite makes it over the ledge. If she had use of her mental faculties, she would have realized that the shirt was the only thing keeping her upright, as her knees had given up It's torturous and infuriating and absolutely glorious all at once.

Finally, just as she's certain her body is about to implode with the overwhelming sensations humming through her body, Brittany finds her hole and fills her with the thrust of three long fingers. It only takes a few pumps from there before she's screaming out her release, lost in an explosion of colors and stars and intense rolling waves of pleasure that seem unending.

When she regains her senses, she's shocked to find she's no longer hanging from the coat rack, but curled up in Brittany's lap on the love seat in the living room. She blinks lazily and shudders when straightening her spine sends an unexpected aftershock rippling through her body. Brittany hums in satisfaction and presses a light kiss to her temple. Santana turns to stare at her in heavy-lidded wonder.

"Where in God's name did  _that_  come from?"

Brittany grins, clearly pleased with herself, and kisses her soundly on the lips before answering.

"When you got stuck yesterday on your bracelet, I got...inspired."

"Jesus fucking Christ. Remind me never to watch bondage porn with you. You'd wear me to a shadow inside of a week."

Brittany frowns indignantly.

"Give me some credit San, you wouldn't last more than a couple days."

Santana opens her mouth to object, but any words that might have come out are overridden by a surprised moan when the hand she hadn't noticed on her thigh moves up to flick once against her sensitive clit. Another powerful aftershock rips through her, leaving her gasping in its wake.

"Fuck, okay, you win. God Brittany, I'm not going to be able to walk for days at this rate."

The blonde grins triumphantly, but moves her hand a safe distance away.

"Nuh uh, Santana, you promised to take me dancing tonight."

Santana growls in exasperation, but it fails to hide the grin underneath. "God, you're lucky I love you."

Brittany smiles again, nudging her nose against Santana's cheek. "Mmmhmm. Happy St. Valentine's Day, Santana."

"Happy St. Valentine's, Britts."


End file.
